LA Flakes

flake

n. An unreliable person; someone who agrees to do something, but never follows through.

One thing I have definitely come across during my time here is Flakes. People make plans, then they change on you. Sometimes leaving you high and dry, definitely leaving you a little unsettled and weary of the relationship going forward. If you chose to continue one of course.

Now I have been known to some aspects of being a flake in my time. I'm an entreprenuer and sometime not the most structured person. I often don't have a routine, and have a number of projects on the go at once. I sometimes find it hard to say no to things.  I am lucky to have lots of friends and opportunities presented to me that I often juggle. In fact, I thrive in trying to do a number of things at once.

So yes I have been known to overcommit, 'drop a few balls' and sometime have an oversight for detail. And yes I would end up getting criticized for not doing this or that, often when I would achieve a great deal else. I would get called selfish and unreliable. See NZ is a structured place. It is quiet and relatively easy. People want a firm answer on your commitment, and then would rely on you to deliver or meet expectations.

So I just stopped committing to things. Sorry I just can't commit to chipping in for a weekend away in Raglan next month.  Not sure what else might be on that I may be at. And I'm not going to buy tickets to that gig as I don't know where I will be. And I can't say yes to that trip overseas later in the year. Can't plan that far ahead.  I would just decided at the last minute where I wanted to be, with whom, doing what.

Then you start getting a hard time for not committing to things. You stand outside the box and don't follow the crowd.  People then don't invite you to things. You are seen as waiting for the better option. So you are damned if you do, damned if you don't.

But at least you are not overcommitting and not following through on something.

Anyway in LA you get a LOT of Flakey people. People just don't give you straight answers, they make commitments they can't keep or sometimes just plain disappear on you!

There are a number of reason for people not following through. The sheer size of the city means you often can't do everything you intend to. You can really only do one thing at a time because of the travel time to get anywhere.  So often you get thing changed on you last minute, which is fine.

There are loads of options too. Gigs. Visitors. Parties. Movie Screenings. The place is going a million miles an hour! It might be hard to commit to a date later in the week when you may have drinks to go to, or you are waiting on a job offer, or hearing back on a friend in town. So you say yup sounds good and then confirm on the day, if at all.

They also say in LA you never have a bad meeting. You leave feeling positive with the outcome, having agreed on something or leave things open to follow up on.  The doors of opportunity ajar if you like.  People don't like to burn bridges or close doors - if table turn they can always come back and say 'hey I thought we had something going here!' Keep a number of pots warming on the stove you could say.  Sometimes people will see you as a favour for a friend or client with no intention of following through with anything. But they still greet you with a warm smile and a promise to be in touch.

So with all of this busy, noncommittal flakey environment people in LA seem to just make plans on the understanding that they are not confirmed until the day (or even hour) of them happening.  I guess nothing is ever confirmed until it is actually taking place! Which is fine if you know the rules and manage your own expectations, and your own potential to flake on someone else in the meantime.

I had first experienced it when I arrived wide-eyed bushy tail off the plane and met a lovely Texan girl my first week here. She was stunning, an outgoing TV presenter and had a unique wild side to her that I was charmed about. We exchanged numbers and planned to meet up again. There was lots of good chat but it all seemed a bit fluffy. So I said why don't we meet up for coffee. How about dinner she said? Seemed like a sure sign that we were going to lock in some plans. I suggested we grab some dinner and go to the basketball in a couple of days time. I text her the next day to arrange ticket and didn't hear back from her.  Immediately I felt something odd. She then text saying to wait on buying tickets as she was coming down sick, had some filming to day and would make a call on the day.  I wasn't going to commit until I had a commitment from her so I flagged. I text her later in the week and no word either. She had disappeared.

To see her pop up on social media the next week with her boyfriend made me laugh. An Aussie as well. Please!!!

I have had some interesting experiences calling out flakes.  My first week here (around the time I was getting the run around from the Texan) a UK contact of mine emailed me saying ' lets do beers this week!'. So I said fine - what about Thurs? He said how about Friday? Sure. I left it with him to confirm the place and time. Then I followed up with him on the day. 'We still doing beers? Where abouts?' Nothing came back.

After the weekend I got back in touch. 'Did you just do a classic LA flake to me?' I asked. He immediately responded with a humble British apology and arranged a time to reconvene the next day. 'I didn't know it was locked in sorry mate' he said. Didn't know? I must have hit a sore spot as he shouted me brunch at West Hollywood hot spot Cecconis where he passed on some worldly LA advice, especially around girls, who as I had found out were especially flakey.

This technique of calling out flakes turned on me though.  I got chatting to lady at the bar one night and told her I was in the music festival space. She excitedly said it was my lucky day! She happened to be best friend with one of the managers at Goldenvoice who are Coachella's promoters! How convenient! We exchanged details and she promised to make an introduction.  She then spoke about herself for the next 10 minutes about had saying how she was VP of the Wall Street Journal for 10 years and her Dad was David Bowie's manager. And her name was Ziggy Stardust.  Righto then!

So I text her the next day saying thanks nice to meet you, with my bio and a polite reminder to make the intro.  Nothing. I text her again later in the week.  Nothing.  By the end of the week I was becoming impatient. So I threw out the cheeky 'Did you just do an LA flake on me' just to incite response.  Hey it had worked before right? And after all - she was flaking on me!

Well it appears Americans don't seem to get a piss take, or at least don't like to get the piss taken out of them. Or at least getting called out. Well no one does do they.  She went right off her rocket at me saying 'try not to be a dick to someone who is trying to pull you a favour'. I apologised immediately and said I was having her on and at least this got me a response. She said she had no interest in helping me further. I asked if she was overreacting and she gave me a serve about 'its not my job Mr Pinkham to make calls on your behalf on the timeframe YOU designate'. Given her delay in getting back to me, her unnecessary defensive tone to my question of her being a flake (she could have said yes?) and her lack of acceptance of my apology, my assumptions were indeed correct. I guess the truth hurts sometime.

Now a short break to listen to one of my favourite songs by Jack Johnson. I didn't know that the song is about someone flaking on you. Probably a girl. 'It seems to me that maybe, pretty much always means no.....'

Flake - Jack Johnson

The other cultural difference I have experienced is around manners. Now overall Americans are polite. They go out of their way to be friendly and assertive. Especially in hospitality due to the tipping culture. Although I still haven't worked out why you get amazing services at restaurants but you have to pick up your own coffees from the cafes?

Hollywood as I'm learning might be a different story. We all know the character of Ari Gold off Entourage. Rude, obnoxious, yelling obscenities to staff and client alike to get results.

Entourage - The Best of Ari Gold

But I've dealt with some of the top agents in the music industry, mainly out of London. This is not how they behave. They are firm and direct, but normally always responded with a 'Best' or ' Kind Regards'' even if it is at the regards of a simple stern direction or response. Manners are paramount, business is about relationships after all.

Well I was doing a favour for a leading entertainment lawyer here who was looking for a kiwi band for a conference he was involved with. After going out of my way to find some options for him he responded with a 'GET ME THE CONTACT'. I was slightly taken back so I responded with' Please?.' He came back '????????'.  I don't think he understood my point. All I was wanting was a bit of respect. And appreciation for my gesture. This is what manners are after all. An acknowledgement.

I passed on the contact and was very tempted to spell it out for him 'Please Hamish can you provide the contact, thanks'. I'm not his bloody PA - I am a potential client and or business partner! Our dealings left me with a sour taste in my mouth.

I have since understood though it is a cultural difference. People here move fast, talk fast, act fast. They want results and they want it now! They sometimes don't have time for niceties. So that goes both ways then surely? Which is exactly the reason I got confused when it took so long for Ziggy Stardust to get back me re Goldenvoice! #flake!

So there are definitely a few things to learn about how this city and its' dealings works.  Overall I'm trying to be better communicator and be clear with my commitments. If you can't make something just say so. Don't over commit. If you might still come to something, then just say that. Be honest. Thats all I think people want. Or at least deserve.

And I've got no qualms about calling people out. It is a question after all not an accusation.

And anyway, you can't out-flake a flake!

The Transporter

Last week I had an eventful experience while tasked with towing a trailer full of sailing gear up to Santa Barbara.

I was introduced to an Aussie friend of a friend James who had just arrived in LA via his yacht business. James was based at Marina Del Ray for a couple of weeks and was responsible for getting the sleek Farr40 racing yacht ready for its wealthy owner to compete in number of regattas up and down the California coast. I said I would be keen for some cash work so Monday morning I arrived bright and early at the docks just near my house. We spent a couple of days in the sun getting the boat prepared. Unpacking sails, loading removing old branding to the trailer, scrubbing the deck and loading the boat for its journey up to Santa Barbara for the regatta the following week. It was pretty menial labour of which I hadn't done for some time but it was nice to be outside and be involved.

On the Wednesday the plan was for James and his first mate Kieran sail the boat up on its 10 hour journey to Santa Barbara, while I would transport the trailer full of gear via the Pacific Coast Highway. This was not just any old trailer - at 20 feet it more a horse float, complete with shelves for the sails, a work bench and desk.  We spent the morning finding a suitable truck to tow it, getting groceries and calling into the bank. It was midday by the times James. Before he left he asked 'You have driven a truck towing a trailer before haven't you?'. Ummm....

Now I'm not the most practical man. Sure I can play the guitar, rig a sound system and cook for a dinner party but when it comes to hands on nuts and bolts I haven't had that much time at the crease. Even at my music festivals I stay clear of any hands-on leaving this to more experienced event operators and contractors.  But hey driving is pretty straight. 'Just go wide on the corners. And take your time!' was the last thing James said as he began his journey about midday.

I spent then next few hours of the day running around doing some final jobs. I had to go down to Long Beach to pick up some sails. I asked the sail maker if there was anywhere to grab some lunch. He suggested the deli around the corner Santa Fe Importers. The place was packed as I entered, with a line that curled around the store. I asked grumpy, italian guy at the counter what he recommended and he suggested the hot meatball sub.

Santa Fe Importers

Now my mouth always waters when I watch my favourite movie 'Point Break' and Angelo asks Johnny Utah to pick him up a couple of meatball subs. We just don't have them in NZ. It would surely set me up for my big drive ahead.  The meatballs were juicy and warm, smothering the corners my mouth with spicy tomato sauce as I navigated my way back up the 405, peering over the traffic in my kick ass Ford Truck.

On my way back I grabbed a trailer adaptor from a motor stor in a city Hawthorne which was adjacent to the Marina. It had a quaint, middle america feel, but with dollar stores and industrial building supplies next to disused clothing outlet stores. It felt like LA used to be your could say. Not quite deepest darkest Compton or Inglewood but felt like not the kind of place you would want to be after dark. Still I found my adaptor, another tick off the list.

I arrived back at the ship yard with a full belly and a spring in my step ready for the challenge ahead Some of the staff at the shipyard helped me get the trailer on. It certainly was heavy and weighed down. It took a fair bit of grunt from my truck to get momentum and the trailer bounced to attention, following my lead through the boat yard amongst the shiny, berths.

I set off on my adventure. Getting to the turn off on to the entry onto the PCH. I took the corner wide as I recall James suggesting, hugging the curb as I came into the entry. Perfect.

Bang! I heard a loud noise as the trailer jolted and bounced behind me. I feared straight away I had a flatty. The trailer wobbled to the side as I began heading down the hill towards PCH. Traffic wizzed by me as I slowed up to prevent any further.  Luckily in front of me I saw a clear stretch of pavement where four or so carparks were tucked in front of an apartment block. I pulled up to the short and straddled the truck and trailer on the curb, leaving just enough room to get back on the road if I needed to. I flicked on the hazards lights and dismounted to survey the damage. Yup sure enough the tyre was gone, along with a slight kink in the wheel. I must have hit the curb.

I looked at my watch. 4pm. It was about an hour until rush hour started. Was there a spare tyre in the trailer? If there was it would be buried deep amongst all the sailing gear. Roadside assistance? Pretty sure I had registered for some on my car policy. I tried to call my insurance broker but the call kept dropping, due to being tucked in under the hill. My heart was pounding at all the decisions I was trying to make. And I had about an hour until rush hour started. The traffic would pick up and the tenants of the apartment block would soon be home.  My phone was on 18% battery and I couldn't get reception where I could charge it in the truck. Fck!

I thought I better let James know. I ran up the hill to better reception and luckily got hold of him out on the boat.  He confirmed there was no spare tyre in the trailer. Being the cool calm experienced man her suggested the idea of getting to a safer place.  I knew the stretch of PCH in front of me was about 1 or 2 kilometers or so before I hit any real service center at the Pacific Palisades. I did of course have one tire in tact. I tried my luck getting both beasts off the curb and got back on the entry towards to the motorway. I began hobbling down PCH. Every now and then the trailer would wobble, and make a hell of a noise. I almost expect an axel to drop and hit the road any minute.  Cars beeped as the sped past me, some drivers yelling obscenities for holding up the traffic. Up ahead of me the road was narrowing as summer road works were taking place.

Finally I saw the service center up in front of me. The forecourt was small and busy, packed with cars lineup for the pumps. Not ideal for a truck carrying a handicapped trailer.  In an almost last gasp I pulled up on the curb directly outside the petrol station. To close it seems as the wheels jimmies up against the curb. A stunning woman in a black Audi stared down her moviestar-like nose as I bounded out of the truck to see just how close I was to to the curb.  I was soon on the phone to track down my insurance broker and thus roadside assistance.

In the meantime a middle aged surfer man pulled into the forecourt and offered to help. Not unlike a weathered Donavan Frankenreiter, this Tom guy was a deadset California legend.  He had seen me trundling down PCH and thought I was a comendable, brave man for trying to get clear of highway traffic. Most people he said would've just parked up on the side of the road, blocking incoming traffic and call for roadside assistance. Well I would too if I could have got hold of them! He helped me survey the dented wheel and gave me his advice. He had a jack and suggested we could set the trailer free and find a new tire. Easier said than done as I tried to shimmy the trailer away from the curb as cars flew at breakneck speeds next to me. The edge of the trailer dragged along as my nose stuck out to on coming traffic. Now I had a new problem.

A mexican man at the pump saw my failed attempts to pull the trailer (note. with a flattie) away from the curb and offered his services. He seemed excited by the challenge. 'I do zis for a living maaaan!' he said, rubbing his hands together. Him and Donavan communicated like basketball strategists in dragging the trailer out while I kept on the phone to roadside assistance. Finally got hold of them and they said I would need a destination before they would send a tow truck.  I called my mechanic who gave me a couple of tyre mechanics to try. Given it was now 5pm I was put on hold, or told the wheels were too big. Calling James again he suggested I park it around the corner.  There surely was no way I would find a stray park for a Ford Truck and a 20 ft trailer in the swanky neighbourhoods of the Pacific Palisades!

My only option would be to tow it back to the ship yard where I had begun my journey. Tomorrow would be a new day, I could get a new wheel. James even had a sailor arriving who could attempt the delivery. I called the roadside back and said we would take it back to Marina Del Ray. 'Thank you sir we will get that underway. Please be aware it will be $350 and you will then have to make a claim back. Cash or Credit?'. Arrrrggggggg!

My mexican friend had however slowly inched the truck forward, and the wheel away from the curb. Cars continued to beep as we still held up one lane, the one turning right. He inched forward to the next free curb clear enough away to survey the damage. Sure enough the wheel was damaged and Donovan confirmed it would require a new wheel not just a new tyre. It was at this stage his wife was calling him home for dinner and he left me to it. What a dude.  I was very grateful to have his moral and technical support.

I sat huddled in my truck ignoring the beeps and obscenities yelled by backed up traffic as I waited for the tow truck.  With his little ute with a crane on the back there was no way he would be putting it on the back. But he was confident he could find a tyre though and after putting out a road cone out to warn passing traffic we headed back up the hill. He made a few calls but had the same issues as me - either being put on hold or told there was no way of getting a trailer tyre at this time of night.

We ended up back at the marina at a service center just as the place was closing! Argh. Luckily the security let us in and the manager found us the tyre we needed.

$230 later we were back down the hill, along the motorway the truck. I was half expecting it to be gone with the luck I was having. The towie changed the tire and all appeared to be solved.  On inspection of the flat tyre we saw that one side was completely bald. Potentially a reason the trailer had slid out, or at least more prone to burst.  The towie said I was lucky that it had burst when it did rather than on an open stretch of road and was not safe to be going long distances. This made me feel slightly better!

Given I now had a fresh tyre and was already on my way I made the decision to keep going north. I made my way slowly up the PCH. Once I got passed Malibu the traffic subsided and I had space to plod along at my own pace.  It was near midnight when I pulled into Santa Barbara and headed to the Marina. The car park was quiet and empty. James confirmed just to find a space and drop it off. I was lucky to stay at my friend Sam's place that night, sleeping safe and sound knowing the cargo was delivered as promised. A transporter always delivers!

I woke up in the morning to a text from James saying he would need the truck to move the trailer. But on arrival it was already moved by the efficient spot. We were able to catch up have a quick recap laugh about the previous days turn of events.

Overall it was a character building afternoon.  It definitely tested my problem solving skills, along with improving my practical ones. The 'time at the crease' I was after you could say. I was impressed actually with how calm and considered I had been given the circumstances, even though my heart was jumping out of my chest at time.

It also showed me that no matter how comfortable you are, this city can turn on you in an instant and you need to be prepared for the worst. I was impressed by the assistance of Tom / Donavan Frankenreiter - who I was keeping in touch with and was able to thank for his assistance. The towie also was a legend helping my find a tire at that time of night.  The mexican man disappeared into the dust without me getting to send a follow up thanks. So did the movie star lady in the Audi. James laughed off the incident, and fixed me up for the all the expenses incurred. 'It is what it is' he said. He was probably thankful that nothing serious happened under his remit - to the trailer and or his part time employee. With no contract, insurance, legal working permits for working in that industry, etc etc. I hate to think what could happen in the dark and murky world of the California State Law beaucracy.

Still I got the job done and returned in one piece. The transporter always delivers.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

4th July - Santa Barbara

The best thing about my time so far in LA has been meeting new US friends. One particular has been a girl Sam who found herself at a beach gathering playing volleyball with a bunch of kiwi friends.  It turns out her father was born from NZ and she had recently moved to California in between jobs. She soon took a liking to the kiwi crowd and its wasn't long until she hosted us at her place for cocktails. Sam is one of those people with a heart of gold and like many from this country, super hospitable and welcoming. As a result of us all getting along she invited a group of us up to her family house in Santa Barbara to get a true red white and blue 4th of July experience.

I had been in the US for 4th of July twice before. Once in Lake Tahoe post University where I was working for a caterer, serving burgers before joining a friends BBQ to watch the fireworks over the lake. Then the following year I was in Michigan for a wedding. We had watched the local parade before again getting out on the lake, eating drinking and being merry.  Both times revolved around food, friends, fireworks and frolicking in the water. I was looking forward to much of the same to celebrate this national day and traditional kick off of summer.

We set off from LA at about 7am on the 4th July to try and beat the traffic up the coast. In no time at all we were up in Montecito - the hillside town about 10 minutes out of Santa Barbara and sunning around the pool. Sam's family had only recently purchased the property that sat high on the hill. Rows of citrus trees covered the lawn below the house, with distant views of Ventura. After a morning music duty, linking the stereo system to the one of number of speakers around the house.

It was long until the boys were creeping into some beer pong action.  It was 4th of July after all! Tom Darby was pretty experienced and could sink a swish from 10 ft out. Competitive streaks started to show. By the end some warm beers were consumed, losers thrown in the pool and a number of laughs had been had.

The boys soon sparked up the barbie, while the ladies prepared the salads. Hot dogs and hand pressed, home made hamburgers were grilled and served with all the trimmings.  I was still on music so bought out my version of Americana while we ate. Bruce Springsteen and John Cougar Mellencamp were particularly memorable and fitting for the occasion.

Bruce Springsteen - Born In the USA

John Cougar Mellencamp - Jack and Diane

In the afternoon more games took place. Corn hole, table tennis, underwater swimming.  I really got the Spotify playlist into a more urban genre bringing out some old school hip hop as the day turned to night. We sat around the patio and played a game of Cards Against Humanity - a party game for horrible people where by punters had to put forward there most offensive suggestion to solve common questions and queries. Loads of laughs, whiskeys and singalongs including a live rendition of my new song Full Moon.

California Love - Tupac

Notorious B.I.G - Juicy

Dr. Dre - Still D.R.E

Black White Dynamite - Full Moon

Sunday was a beach day while some of us stayed behind to watch the World Cup football games.

Down to The Lark for dinner. It was full of relaxed holiday makers enjoying the long weekend.  The food was stunning as we were served up a number of sharing plates. Pork belly, crab, roasted beets all featured as a few toasts and speeches were made thanking Sam for her hospitality.

The rest of the night was spent having a look around the Santa Barbara nightlife.  A few pints of Guinness at the Irish pub James Joyce and. Santa Monica is quaint and charming. Very safe and gentrified compared to the rest of LA.  Given it was 4th of July there were lots of tourists and visitors about.

I love everything about 4th of July. Its a time out to enjoy the American summer and everything that comes with it.  It reminds me of Xmas day just without the family and presents. 

Thanks Sam! See you next year?

O'Canada

I have been lucky enough to have family in Canada, and as a result have a strong connection to the country. My Gran's younger brother and sister both moved to Canada, after growing up in Wellington. They both had families, mainly on the eastern side of the country in Ontario and Quebec.  My parents visited their cousins on their travels in their early 20's and it was only fitting that my sisters and I would one day too.

When I had visions of building Rhythm and Vines into a world class music festival my Mum suggested I go to Montreal and work for my cousin Bruce Hills. He is the COO of Just For Laughs a world reknown comedy festival there. I took the opportunity and I had a memorable summer working there, learning about the inner workings of a world class entertainment brand which I have in turn been able to pass on to my own company. I returned to Montreal last year and am always charmed by the quaint french-influenced city.

When another of Mum's cousins Derek Roulston was getting married in Vancouver at the end of last month it was a great chance to get up to the North West and catch up with my Canadian rellies. I hadn't met the West Coast cousins yet, and it was a short hop skip and a jump from my current base in Los Angeles.

After a three hour flight from LAX I popped up out of the underground to a grey and wet Vancouver afternoon. I hadn't seen rain for months! It reminded me a lot of autumnal Auckland as I jumped on the sky loop towards my Burnaby. This took me on a loop around the city and I got the full scale of the place. The surrounding suburbs were nestled between green forests at the base of towering mountain ranges. Fog hung in the air, creating a damp and muggy almost spooky, still and sombre atmosphere. The first thing I noticed was the ethnicities of the locals - asian faces everywhere, a sign of Canada opening its doors to far eastern investment. Apartments dotted the skyline that wouldn't be out of place in Shanghai or Hong Kong.

After catching up with the cousins, great aunts and uncles at the family dinner, my younger Damon cousin and I decided to have a beer in town.  We met up with Joel Armstrong a DJ who had played at R&V in 2010. He took us to an authentic Japanese restaurant in trendy Gastown. Vancouver is known for its fresh sushi and I wasn't disappointed. Fresh, firm sashimi and spicy beef tataki all washed down with jugs of ice cold Saporo. Joel was a great insight into the vibrant music scene here and he took us for a quick look at the local club before we were back in bed ready for the celebrations ahead.

The next day was an early start with the service taking place at 10.30am in a quaint church. Derek and Anita had asked if I would be happy to sing a song during the signing of the registry. I wasn't familiar with their chosen song by a singer Don Fransisco - 'I could never promise you'.  Don had been an established folk singer in the 1960's.  He had written the song for his own wedding and the words were fitting to the occasion.

Don Fransico - I could never promise you

I performed it again at the reception along with my band Blackbird's song 'Hand in Hand'.  It seemed a fitting kiwi tribute to my Canadian cousin and his new bride

Blackbird - Hand in Hand

On the Sunday after a family brunch I made my way out to Pender Island to catch up with an old friend Adrian Shamberger. Adrian Shamberger had moved to NZ around 2006 with his wife Jodie - who was my good mate KB's sister. Being a few years older than us and having been in and around the band scene in Canada he was a fantastic musical mentor for us. I enjoyed music chats with him over the years from his love of Neil Young, Reggae and Roots music and the intricacies of live performance. He was in essence a Rick Rubin figure for our band Blackbird - giving direction, feedback, perspective and helping us record a number of crude demos.  His cycnical charm and passion for music had definitely worn off on me over the years. Given I was in his neck of the woods it was a great chance to catch up again.

After a patchy call back the Rhythm team in Auckland at the ferry terminal (Monday in NZ) I boarded the ferry bound for Pender Island. Once the ship passed through the straits we hit calmer warmers around the Gulf Island.  It reminded me of the Malborough Sounds, with wooden cabins poking through the scrub with paths down the glassy shore.  The sunset was magic, reflecting on the mirror-like Gulf. Whales popped out next to us much to the tourists delight. It was a serene and special moment.

After a good nights sleep at Adrian I awoke to a stunning bluebird day on Pender. After attending to some emails and writing I went for a run to get my bearings. The air was sticky and sweet - you could almost smell the summer that hung thick around me. Retired folk chipped away on the pristine local golf course. Bees buzzed and birds swooped as I covered the 6 or so mile loop. Pender reminded me of time spent in Lake Tahoe - tall pine trees flanking winding roads, that hugged the dark blue shoreline. This time of course was sea rather than lake but the same boulders and pebbles freckled the calm waters.

On my return I took my guitar down to the local beach and had a little jam. I was able to start writing a song called 'Slowly' based on a riff I had been tampering around with for years.  Song writing is an interesting process. My technique is to start with the riff or a chord progression. Ive got a number of them I've written over the years so I run through them until one sticks. I play it over and over again scatting and humming along until I have a melody. Then I start to form the lyrics around the melody. As in the case with 'Slowly' I came up with the chorus quickly which gave the song context. I took out my iphone and recorded me playing the riff mumbling some words around the topic, that being slowly falling in love with someone.  I could easily tidy up the lyrics at a later date which I intend to. There is also a harmonica part for this song that I had written previously which I will throw in the mix too.

Adrian came home from his job as a local Park Ranger and we fired up the BBQ with Jodie and their daughter Kora. It was great recounting stories of their time in in NZ, some memories of which I had not thought about for year.  We laughed about a memorable Blackbird tour of the country, 6 shows in 6 nights leaving us broken and bruised. And the early days of R&V when Adrian and Jody lived on Waiohika woofing to help prepare the venue for the impending festivities.  And promoting a NZ tour for a legendary Canadian band we both loved - Bedouin Soundclash. We dug out some old photos and listened to some old music we had recorded together years ago.

Blackbird - Soundcloud

Bedouin Soundclash - When the night feels my song

The next morning was Canada Day. I borrowed Jodie's scooter and I zipped down to the local parade. Cora was singing the national anthem in the service, as flags were raised and speeches of past glories ensued.  She had been under 10 in NZ and now was 14, I had hardly recognised the same girl who used to run around Waiohika those many summers ago. We went back and picked fresh cherries and strawberries at Jodies farm, juicy and sweet. I caught a bit of the USA v Belgium game before a lazy afternoon spent lake side at Higgs Beach taking in the stunning distant views of Seattle mountain line.

Another BBQ that night, Adrian I chewed the fat and enjoyed the sunset over the lake. I felt relaxed and rejuvenated for my next chapter back in the jungle of LA. It had been a non-stop 2.5 months since my arrival so nice to take some time and reflect and set some new goals for the coming months ahead.

After a 3 hour ferry and again to Vancouver I took the wrong train and next minute ended up in what could be only described as Chinatown. Ethnic faces greeted me every where I looked. Soon enough I was back on track on a plane, soaring high above sprawling neighbourhoods of Los Angeles.

Although a memorable wedding and a relaxing time in the Gulf Island, I feel I didn't get the full Vancouver experience on this trip. I intend to experience the city's bars and restaurants, bike along the shoreline and take in the breathtaking views of the mountains that signify this most liveable city. Maybe in the winter time to experience Whistler too. O'Canada with glowing hearts we see the rise - the true north strong and free!